Dreams
by xkeymasterx
Summary: When you're a Warehouse agent, even dreams are freaky.  Semi-humorous oneshot in response to the challenge on the forum.  Please review!  Rated K


Hey again! My second Warehouse 13 fanfic! This little oneshot was written in response to I-luv-to-write-law-and-order's challenge on the forum. I've always thought that the night scene with insomniacs Myka and Pete on the veranda was quite cute, and I wanted to see some more. This one includes the whole team and ended up going in a somewhat different – hopefully funnier – direction.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review on your way out! Flames and one-liners accepted, critical reviews especially awesome!

Akaylah

* * *

Pete woke with a jerk, eyes wide and staring. He had dreamed that MacPherson had come into the Dark Vault while he was staring at that typewriter and had turned him into a ferret, using an artifact that looked a lot like a rodent's foot. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, checking first to make sure it had no traces of fur on it. With a sigh of relief, he lay back down, but his mind would not let him go back to sleep. Funny thing about being a Warehouse agent: nightmares can get _really _bizarre. Using a rabbit's foot to turn somebody into a ferret? Would have never even dreamed that before. He shook his head at himself and got up.

It was early yet; the dying moonlight still shone feebly through the curtains as he padded carefully down the stairs. He intended to steal a cookie from Artie's stash and chase it with some milk, but to his surprise, he found Artie himself out on the veranda, his toes just barely peeking out of the light blanket that Leena thoughtfully kept on the couch for them. A half-empty glass of water stood on the table beside him, and the remnants of an Oatmeal Scotchie crumbled in his hand.

"Hey, Artie," greeted Pete quietly, unwilling to risk waking Myka. Retrieving hallucinogenic artifacts could be quite exhausting, as yesterday had proven.

Artie merely grunted and stuffed the last bite of cookie in his mouth. Pete frowned.

"You okay, Artie?"

Artie seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. "Oh, hey, Pete. What are you doing out here?"

"Can't sleep. Had a nightmare."

"Really?" asked Artie conversationally as he reached for the glass. "What was it about?"

Pete grimaced. "MacPherson turned me into a ferret."

Artie chuckled.

"What about you?" Pete asked.

Artie sighed unconsciously. "I dreamed that Dickinson used the Kodak camera on me …"

"Wait, what? What is that?"

He turned in the chair to see Pete better. "It's a camera that turns people into cutouts when their picture is taken, and then turns them back into people with another picture. I used it on Dickinson while you two were gone to Chicago after that record."

Pete nodded. "Oh, yeah, when you thought Dickinson was the breach. So, in your dream, _he _used it on _you_?"

Artie nodded, a tiny smile beginning to tug at his lips. "Yeah. Anyway, he –" he broke off briefly with a chuckle – "he turned me into a cutout and then started drawing tattoos all over me," he explained, waving a hand in the air.

Pete laughed. "So, were the tattoos still there after he turned you back?"

Artie nodded energetically, still chuckling. "Yes."

"_That's_ terrifying," Pete replied. He paused. "What were –"

"Don't ask." Artie's smile had disappeared into a look of complete and utter seriousness.

Pete raised his eyebrows. "Just _one_ tattoo? Come on!"

"Uh, no. _Don't ask_," he growled, his face going from serious to intimidating.

"Don't ask what?" came a voice from behind them. Artie turned around to see Myka in her pajamas, with a cookie – one of _his_ cookies – in one hand, and a cup of hot tea in the other.

"Hey, Myka …" began Pete, a little concerned, but Artie interrupted him.

"You had a nightmare too?" he asked, turning around more fully.

She nodded as she came forward and pulled out the middle chair. "Dreamed that a shelf nearly fell down on me –"

Pete grimaced. "Ooh."

"– and I backed into Lewis Carroll's mirror, and suddenly, I was Ophelia in _Hamlet_." Pete snickered at the image. Myka gave him a look. "Alice was the king, and you," – pointing to Artie – "were Hamlet's father's ghost."

Pete began to laugh. "Well, you know, your middle …"

Myka shot him another look. He wisely stopped. He had learned from hard experience that it was a bad idea to pick a fight with his partner when she'd just gotten up from a nightmare. Especially one involving her middle name.

"You had a nightmare too? All three of us had nightmares at about the same time?" mused Artie as his brain began to turn over. "I wonder if Claudia –"

"You wonder if I what?"

Everyone turned around to see Claudia leaning against the doorframe in robe and pajamas.

"Claude," began Myka slowly, "Did you have a nightmare too?"

Claudia's eyebrows climbed upward. "Yeah. I dreamed that Harriet Tubman's thimble chased me all over the Warehouse and made me look like MacPherson. How did you know?"

Artie turned back around, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Pete leaned forward. "Artie? Do you think …?"

"The artifact," nodded Artie, throwing off the blanket. "The key to Freud's study."

"But why nightmares?" asked Claudia as they all followed Artie inside. "In the other victims, it caused hallucinations."

Myka shook her head. "That's because the owner of the key hid it in the victim's bedroom."

Artie nodded as he headed up the stairs. "It requires time before the dreams bleed into waking life."

Pete frowned. "Wait, wait. Claudia didn't touch it. I know she didn't."

"It doesn't require touch," Artie replied. "Just proximity. Once one person has touched it, it can infect anyone in the room."

Myka nodded. "That's why the owner was under evaluation in a psychiatric facility."

Claudia shuddered. "Great. Now Freud is messing with my head. Perfect."

Artie chuckled. "Don't worry. A neutralizer bath for the key should reverse its effects."

"So, what do we do? Do we go back to bed and neutralize the key in the morning?" asked Myka hopefully.

"It _is_ morning," replied Artie, pointing out the window. Sure enough, the first rays of early morning sunshine were peeking through.

A general groan. "And I was planning to sleep late today," whined Pete.

Artie snorted. "Not a chance. Everyone go get ready. We need to douse that key before the effects get worse."

Pete sighed. Another day as a Warehouse agent. First item: drown a perfectly normal-looking key in freaky, glowing purple goo before said key makes agents violently insane. Second item: go sneak off to the canned food aisle and get some real sleep. Maybe.

As the foursome entered the Warehouse, they saw the computer flashing. Claudia and Artie went straight over. "We got a ping," announced Claudia happily as Artie began reading the information and muttering to himself.

Pete groaned. Freaky stuff and sleep deprivation. Yep, another day at the Warehouse.

* * *

So there it is! Did you like it? Hate it? Tell me! One-word reviews are completely cool!

So why nightmares? Working in a stressful, frightening place like the Warehouse should certainly produce bad dreams. Sometimes I think that the writers don't stress how much of a toll a job like this would take on a person. This idea really took off when I read the forum challenge.

Special thanks to I-luv-to-write-law-and-order for posting the word list! This piece was really fun to write, and working in those challenge words gave me a lot of ideas. In case you haven't visited the forum, here's the list:

ferret

typewriter

moonlight

sunshine

toes

key

water

tattoo

blanket

camera

shelf

_Hamlet_

tea

How many can you find? Kudos to anyone who can tell me which ones I didn't use. Please, please, please review! The more reviews I get, the more I will write! Reviews are food for the muse!

XD


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